


Failures, Of the Mutual Kind

by NeverKnightfire



Series: The Heart’s Proximity [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel
Genre: Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor regrets, Charlie is in over her head, Getting Together, Heartbreak, Husk Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Husk Swears (Hazbin Hotel), Husk is Bad At Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Husk is So Done (Hazbin Hotel), M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27331750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverKnightfire/pseuds/NeverKnightfire
Summary: Discovering Alastor’s secret had been Surprisingly easy. Convincing the Radio Demon to act on it should be easy as well, right?
Relationships: Alastor/Husk
Series: The Heart’s Proximity [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028173
Comments: 34
Kudos: 172





	1. Chapter 1

Husk sneered, turning his shoulder towards the blonde grinning at him as he polished one of the bar glasses. The enchantment on them that made the thick glass shatterproof was convenient, except for its tendency to make the blasted things look foggy. 

“Look Princess, I know you think you’re doing me some kind of fucking favor with this shit, but ya ain’t. Cut the crap, before ya piss me off.” 

The kid’s paper white face screwed up in a confused pout. “But Husk-!” 

“But Husk, nothin’,” the bartender interjected. “If there’s one thing I can’t fuckin’ stand, it’s false sentiment. Ya get me on this? Keep that shit to yourself, because it pisses me off like nothin’ else.” 

The princess’ brow furrowed more as she looked up at him then, and he forced his gaze to remain steady and his voice to stay as firm and hard as the bedrock where his heart used to be. 

“Don’t give me that garbage, it makes me want ta puke.” 

“Why do you think it’s false sentiment for me to say I hope you’re having a lovely morning?” Her voice was small now, wavering. Maybe he’d overdone it, but he couldn’t back down now. You never backed down once you put your cards on the table. 

“Why?” Husk echoed, a laughing scoff punctuating the question. “Because ya came fluttering in here doing a whole fuckin’ production number about it. You twirled around makin’ that fuckin’ shit-eatin' grin and leaned over the counter like ya thought I was some kind of rube, ripe for the fleecing. And THEN, ya gave me that little sing-song garbage about bein’ here with good news to make sure I had the ‘lovliest of days’.” 

When the kid didn’t seem to catch his meaning, Husk groaned, rolling his eyes. “Next time, why don’t ya cut to the chase an’ just start chanting ‘I know something you don’t know’ and get it the fuck over with, girl? Save us both some fucking time and annoyance. Now what the hell do you want?” 

The princess’ expression was teetering on a frown now, and she glanced away for a moment, the motion as obvious a tell as Husk had ever seen. 

Whoever her damned co-conspirator was in this latest hot, steaming pile of wet garbage being dumped on his person, they were waiting for her back in the hallway she had previously come prancing out of. 

When she didn’t respond immediately, Husk snorted, turning to replace the glass on the shelf before reaching for the next one. 

“Anyway, your peppy-ass fake words mean nothing to me, Princess. Ya got all the sincerity of Alastor.” 

His back turned, he missed the way that she straightened bolt upright with the proclamation. Charlie’s eyes shooting another glance back over her shoulder at the distant hallway she had entered the lobby from, before whirling back to stare at his back in open-mouthed shock. Oblivious, Husk continued. 

“Maybe ya think yer brand of sunshine sparkle garbage is special, but it’s no different than his. It’s all a show, meant to manipulate a response. Al uses his to bug the shit out of people for his amusement, an’ you use yours for this...” Husk turned back to look at the girl, a new cloudy glass held in his claws. “This betterment bullshit.” The lanky cat demon paced back over to the bar, the tip of his tail twitching in agitation as he spoke. 

“An’ maybe ya really believe that this... head pats and encouraging words shit is helpful.” He rolled his eyes at the soft glare in the princess’ eyes. “Let me give ya some free advice, kid. It has no power when it gets doled out for every none to minimum effort event that happens. If you want your puppets to dance for ya, then ya need to get them through more than one step of th’ routine before ya start handing out fuckin’ cupcakes. The stupid ones won’t try harder because the base-level effort gets them noticed, and the smarter ones...” 

Husk sat the glass in his claws down heavily on the bar, leaning over the counter surface to bare his teeth in a snarl. “The smarter ones just find it condescending as fuck, Princess.” 

The idealistic young demoness recoiled from him for a moment, shock painting her bold features for a split second before she seemed to rally herself. Stepping back up to the bar, she slapped her own palms down on the surface and glared right back at the winged cat demon. 

“I resent that, Husk!” 

“I notice ya ain’t claiming it ain’t true,” he retorted, picking the glass back up and working the fraying cloth in his claws back into the mouth of the vessel. The princess faltered at that, caught between her own righteous indignation and his snide rejoinder. 

Husk turned his gaze back to the cloudy glass, wiping at the magic-fogged surface as if he had all eternity for the task.

He did, after all. 

“Well... That is... I not only resent that,” Charlotte began again, “BUT it’s also not true.” She had straightened when the bartender looked up at her again. “I mean everything I say. I don’t just hand out compliments and... and use my words to try and manipulate people!” Crossing her arms, she smirked. Almost as if daring him to prove her wrong.

“Just this morning, you took a big happy bite out of one of those culinary abortions that Angel called muffins, and told him they were great.” He noted with satisfaction the way the blonde’s expression twitched as he continued. “They were burnt on the outside, raw on the inside, and the fuckin’ things tasted like motor oil.” 

The smug grin fell as Charlotte’s gorge obviously tried to rise at the memory. Husk sighed. 

“I got all eternity to debate this with you, kid. But honestly, I’d rather not. Just tell me what the hell bullshit ya came bouncing in here to unload, and let me get back to my eternal goddamned torment.” 

It was blissfully silent for a few moments, the golden sound of silence blessing Husk’s sensitive ears with nothingness. 

At last, the pause became exasperating instead of peaceful, and Husk spared the princess a glance. The kid was staring down at her crossed arms, a doubtful look on her face. Good. The overgrown brat could use some introspection, if you asked him. 

Charlie looked up at him with an almost nervous gaze. Reproach was pooled in her bright eyes, threatening to roll down her bright cheeks and stain the floor. 

“You… really don’t trust anyone, do you Husk?” 

He snorted, turning away to flare his wings, showing off the heart-shaped markings on the primary feathers.

“Trust? Yeah, right. Let me tell you about trust. Ya see these marks? Every one of them is a reminder of a time I trusted someone, believed in someone, and gave away a piece of myself in th’ process. I earned every one of these fuckin’ things through my own stupidity. Give away enough of yerself, and soon enough there’s nothing left to give or trust with.” Husk let his eyes fall closed for a moment as he sighed. 

“Soon, there ain’t nothing but a husk, marked up more than a sharpie’s deck.” 

Charlie made a soft, sympathetic noise, and Husk let his wings fall as he turned back to face her. He opened his eyes to glare at the reaction. “I ain’t tellin’ ya this for sympathy, so stop that weepy garbage right now. It ain’t worth cryin’ over, or tryin’ ta pretend it’s somethin’ it ain’t, kid. We’re in fuckin’ Hell, an’ other than you an’ the natives, we’re all here because we earned it.” 

His eyes narrowed at that thought, and he glared at the blonde for a moment. “If ya really wanna know, THAT’S how I know there ain’t no such thing as this ‘Redemption’ stupidity. ‘Cause look at you, kid. If they don’t open up the damned Pearly Gates for a kid like you? Someone who was born innocent into this bullshit? What the fuck chance do any of the rest of us have, huh?” 

Charlie was frowning outright, now. Some secret war was being fought in her mind as she sorted through all of that. At once complimented and condemned, she seemed uncertain of what to address first. 

Sensing that she wasn’t going to speak again unprompted, Husk put the glass in his paws aside. Leaning on the counter with a little less menace in his glare, he pressed her for answers again. 

“So anyway, what d’ya want, kid? Ya came bouncing in here for something, let’s have it.” 

The blonde stared at him for a moment, her mouth turned down into a doubtful grimace as she worried her lower lip between sharp teeth. 

“I’m sorry, I just need a minute. I mean, I can’t believe that you don’t trust... a-anyone.” When he shrugged, Charlie’s expression turned softer, almost pleading. “Really? No one at all? Not even... Alastor?”

Husk was so thoroughly caught off-guard by the question that he choked on nothing, doubling over in a fit of coughing and laughing that left him teary-eyed and breathless as he wheezed. The only thing keeping him upright as he sagged, lightheaded and nearly nauseated with mirth against the bar, were the claws of his right hand. Somehow, he had reflexively sunk the digits into the wood surface as his knees went out from under him. 

“Oh- Oh FUCK,” he panted, wiping at his watery eyes with his free paw. “Shit, that was a good one, kid! Christ on a cross, I think I’m actually dying again.” His shoulders shook and he grinned against the prickling tension in his chest as Charlie stared at him in wide-eyed surprise. 

“Lemme... Oh fuck, hold on. Lemme... shit, I can’t even fucking stand up right now, HA!” Husk howled as he struggled to pull himself back to his feet. His left wing fluttered slightly, as if it could help him defy the death grip gravity had on the innermost coils of his damned guts. 

“I guess... that’s a no, then...” Charlie muttered, backing away from the bar with a shamefaced grimace. “Um... let’s... Let’s pick this up later, okay? Good... Good talk!” She flashed him a double thumbs-up as she backtracked across the lobby, returning to the hallway from whence she’d come like he was a newly discovered dangerously cackling predator she dared not turn her back on. 

As soon as she was gone, Husk released his grip on the counter, letting himself slide to the floor to hiccup and cackle in peace. If the laughs sounded a bit like sobs once he was out of anyone’s line of sight, well that was his business. 

Unknown to Husk, Charlie was wiping at her reddened face as she retreated. She was utterly mortified by the turn that her good intentions had taken. This couldn’t be how her joyful quest ended! 

She stepped quickly, losing sight of Husk and the bar around the corner of the hallway. In the bright light of the crossway beyond, Charlie paused to face her co-conspirator. 

Alastor was standing just where she had left him, his grin small and tight as he regarded her with tired eyes. 

“You see, my dear?” he sighed, something old, resigned and wistful in his gaze. “I’ve told you before. There is nothing here in Hell but lost causes, each and every one of us. I hope you’re not too disappointed.” 

Charlie made as if to reach for his arm, but drew up short. Al didn’t like to be touched. She knew that. She would respect it, even if she thought a hug could make him feel better. 

“Al... I’m sorry. I was so *sure* that we could just... talk it out.” 

Alastor made no response other than a soft, acknowledging hum. “Well my dear, at least you can have this: you definitely brightened up Husker’s day, from the sounds he was making. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in... well, decades. Well done, on that count. You brought a little ray of sunshine into the gloomy depths of Hell.” 

Charlie crossed her arms, leaning back against the wall beside the Radio Demon. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this,” she insisted. “And how am I supposed to feel good about making Husk laugh at you? That’s... that’s so awful. That’s not a thing I can feel proud of. How is that something positive?” 

“Consider, my dear,” Alastor interrupted, reaching out to tap her gently on the nose. When she raised her gaze to his, he smiled more genuinely than she’d ever seen before. “It’s something positive for him, since it brought him even a moment’s joy. And... I suppose it is even a bright spot for me, hearing the dear fellow so amused. Even if it is at my expense,” he added with a small shrug. 

Before Alastor could tune his ears back to the faint sounds coming from the distant lobby, Charlie stepped forward. 

“Al? I really am so sorry. Maybe... Maybe we can fix it?” her bright eyes were shining again as she considered the idea. “If we can just, you know, change how Husk sees you? If we can do that, maybe he’ll be more open to believing us when we try to talk to him again?” 

Alastor’s smile faded to a nearly-straight slash across his face. “When..? You can’t be serious, my dear.” He turned, walking away into the depths of the hotel, clearly considering the conversation over. 

“Al! Just listen!” the princess objected, trotting after him once more with a determined cry.

“There is nothing to listen to, dear girl. You managed to win a secret from me, well done once again on that feat. You’ll find that charming trick of yours won’t work twice, however!” He winked, something playful but dangerous glittering in his smile. 

“I still find myself too impressed to be angry, but do not exhaust my patience. You attempted to orchestrate a happy rendezvous when I told you the quest was far worse than futile. You then failed. Now, do the graceful thing and accept that I was right, you were wrong, and let’s put this whole unpleasant bit of foolishness behind us, hm?”

“Alastor, I’m serious!” the princess insisted, increasing her pace to match his long stride. “I haven’t given up yet. We just have to make Husk see that you CAN be sincere! That’s the crux of the whole problem, isn’t it? He hasn’t got the slightest clue that you could say you cared about him and mean it!” 

“The crux of the problem,” Alastor corrected the excited demoness gently, “Is that *I* discovered that I could, and discovered it far too late.” His red-on-red eyes rolled with exasperation- either with her or with himself. 

“No, my dear. There can be no such thing as the happy ending you desire. Not now. Not while I hold Husker’s soul in contract, and not after he has seen me exploit my way through countless individuals over the decades of our acquaintanceship.”

Alastor squared his shoulders and pushed his grin even wider. “No, I’m afraid that Husker’s too sly a gambler to not be wary of my motives. And, I admit, I have earned my reputation with gusto. So, while it was a fun bit of adventure to entertain the notion of his accepting my poor sort of affections, it’s quite impossi-” 

“Then let him go!” 

Alastor blinked and paused mid-step, startled from his monologue by her half-strangled shout. “I beg your pardon?” 

Charlie darted in front of him, balling her hands into tiny, pale fists at her sides. “If he can’t believe you while you’re in a position of power over him, then why not just let him go? Al, don’t you see? That would show Husk that you would have nothing sneaky to gain from him listening to you! No bigger plan that you’re going to force him into! He’d have to listen to you, then!” 

The Radio Demon’s expression turned at that, teetering on distaste before he shook his head, forcing a sad sort of smile back onto his face. The lighting fixture over his head sputtered fitfully as he regarded her. At last, Alastor heaved a deep sigh, and spoke. 

“Oh, my dear Charlie. If it were only that simple. I’m afraid that the... conditions of our arrangement aren’t conducive to that sort of thing. What I gave in exchange for his soul was not... something that he would so easily receive back again.” 

Charlie’s mouth worked for a moment as she processed that. “Al, what did you do?” 

Alastor’s faint smile flickered, and the struggling lamp over their heads went out with a soft pop. “Only what I was asked, I’m afraid.” 

With that, the Radio Demon vanished into the shadows, leaving the shocked Princess of Hell alone in the darkened hallway.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He only did what he was asked

“Alright, Al! Who’s ready to get out there and start a whole new day with a whole new YOU?” 

Alastor’s brows furrowed as he stared quizzically down at Charlie, who’d been waiting outside his hotel room door when he opened it to greet the new day. 

The princess was bright-eyed and beaming as she grinned up at him, 1.21 gigawatts of pure, electric positivity in her face, and no intentions of letting yesterday’s conversation go quietly. 

He wasn’t certain why she was dressed up in a fancy gold and white sequined pantsuit, but the overall effect was like staring directly into the sun. 

Well, it was like staring into the sun, if the sun had fallen into the depths of the burning underworld. After making such a journey, if the great luminous sphere had decided to knock on his door first thing in the morning for an ill-advised- and in fact unwanted- bout of volunteer relationship counseling…

Well, it would probably look something like the bright, shining demon beaming at him from the hotel hallway.

The sun would never dare. The princess, however, had no such manners.

“I’m sorry, but I do believe you have the wrong number!” he answered, reflexively favoring the demoness with a quick burst of laugh track before shutting the door in her face and erecting a barrier to block out both her voice and her energy. 

Well, one out of two wasn’t bad. He could nearly _smell_ the disappointment on the other side of the door. 

The sweet young lady meant well, he supposed. She did truly want her subjects safe and happy, even if her attempts were nothing but haphazard, wacky hijinx. 

If throwing things at the wall to see what stuck was a problem-solving approach, then Princess Charlotte Magne’s methodology was to throw as hard and fast as she possibly could, until someone physically made her stop.

Endearing, that. 

And annoying, when directed his way. His smile twisted into a pained grimace for a moment with the thought.

Alastor tutted to himself, straightening his tie before stepping sideways through the walls of Hell’s reality to reappear in a lovely little hole in the wall of his choosing. He had discovered the quaint little café by happenstance a decade or so previous, after a particularly satisfying little bit of work on the periphery of the Pentagram. 

Housed in the remains of an ostentatious old joint that had seen better days, it was a uniquely endearing little dive. The walls were largely obscured by heavy, teetering bookshelves, piled high with books. Volumes upon volumes of information on any subject one could name, and a few that one couldn’t. Most of the dusty tomes were for sale.

The floor tiles were intricately-patterned mosaics, set in a geometric design of faint greens, golds, and the odd touch of powdery blue here and there. The long-ago abandoned dance floor was now sparsely populated with tables for the few customers that had found the place- and not been thrown out by the proprietors. 

On that note, the old demonic women who ran the place were refreshingly unconcerned about who he was or what he could do. 

Like Husker, some traitorous part of his brain put in. He ignored it, thoroughly. 

“Ah, my dear Alma!” he called loudly, spotting one of the sisters behind the café counter. 

The demon in question startled, looking up from where she had been nearly submerged in whatever tale was in the large leather-bound book propped up in front of her. “Were you dozing? Why, I had no idea that you girls were turning this cozy little den into a flophouse! And where is your precious, precocious sister on this fine morning?” 

The small, grey, oddly owlish figure behind the counter straightened with a scoff. “Imogen’s out doing errands. It’s just me, today.” Closing her book with a loud harrumph, she stomped over to squint at the Radio Demon. 

The feathered, centaur-like creature looked rather comically like someone had seen a hippogriff, decided that they could do the universe a more absurd favor, and replaced the eagle wings and head with the entire upper torso of an owl. 

The two sisters were nearly identical, each with large feathery arms and cloven hooves on their otherwise mostly equestrian rear halves. If not for Imogen’s need for thick-lensed glasses and Alma’s partial deafness, it would be nearly impossible to tell the siblings apart. 

“Alastor.” The talons of the elderly demon’s right front foot were positively twitching with annoyance as she spoke, glaring up at the much taller Alastor from just about waist height. “What do you want, you goddamned menace?” 

The glare was so much like Husker’s, that little voice insisted. He told it, quite sternly, to be silent. 

Tuning in his most ingratiating smile, the tall scarlet figure swept into a deep bow that put his face at the irritated demoness’ level. “What I desire is merely sparkling conversation with pleasant company, topped off with a cup of your blackest coffee!” 

“We got one of those things,” the annoyed owlish demon complained, waving the smirking Alastor off. “One cup, coming up. I swear, you lot of noisy children and your pestering. Time was, a body could get through a book in peace around here!” 

Alastor laughed indulgently as he chose a table. “Oh, but without custom, what is a store but a storage?” he retorted loudly with a gleeful smirk. The eyeroll and mutter he got in return was as priceless as the cup of searing hot bean juice that was placed on the tattered tablecloth in front of him after Alma leapt lightly up onto the chair neighboring his own.

“Dark as your soul at midnight,” Alma muttered, resting her large, wing-like hands in a gesture that brought to mind a surly grandmother with her fists on her hips. “Almost as bitter, too.” 

Alastor gave the old bird a smirk as he reached for his drink. “Bitter? Why my dear lady, I believe you’ll be needing poor Imogen’s glasses if your eyesight’s dimmed that much!” 

He glanced idly at the far wall as he spoke. There, the most telling damage of the long-ago Extermination Day event that had ended the original business of the eclectic shop was badly concealed behind haphazardly-placed boards and crumbling plaster. “Bitter,” he scoffed again with a thin-lipped smile. 

Husker’s face, oddly soft as he wandered distracted, somewhere in the labyrinthine depths of his own introspection, flashed insistently in Alastor’s mind’s eye. 

The Radio Demon sharply bit down on the inside of his own cheek, willing the dissonant, fraying notes connected to the image to be gone from his internal musicscape. 

Alma glared up at him, and seemed almost knowing. She turned to hop carefully down from the adjoining seat with a mutter. Once more on the floor, she pawed at the floorboards with a tiny back hoof. 

“You never come in here unless you’re on a wild hair after some kind of lost information you think is in one of these old books-” 

“And usually I am quite correct!” he interrupted, eyes narrowed with a stern sort of glare. He ignored the large gash seeping hot blood into his mouth. 

“-Or,” Alma continued, as if he’d never spoken, “You’re worked up in some sort of sulk and trying to hide from anyone who knows you.” 

The two regarded each other silently, the fact that Alastor hadn’t so much as asked what his host was reading hanging in the air between them, unspoken. 

The Radio Demon fumed quietly, raising his cup again and squinting at the unimpressed owl-like demon over the rim as he drank. The wound in his mouth was spearing him with wonderfully distracting agony. The blood on his tongue was also a flavorful addition to the beverage, even if it was his own. 

The cup newly drained, he replaced it with exceptionally careful hands before lacing his fingers together and squaring his shoulders. Once he trusted his voice again, he spoke. 

“I'm quite alright, but I do thank you for your concern,” he informed his doubting, diminutive hostess with a curt nod.

Giving a snort of exasperation, Alma retreated back to her counter and book. After a moment to gauge the distance to the top of her barstool, she gave a great jump and alit on top of the seat. 

“See if I care, you smartass,” she dismissed him with a flick of her feathery tail. “I don’t give a damn what you’re on about, just so long as you’re not bringing the place down on our heads.” 

Fixing his grin at a publicly presentable level again, the deer demon sing-songed a steadfast, over-loud denial of any such intention. With a brightened grin, he stood and approached one of the looming bookshelves. Perhaps something to read would focus his wandering thoughts and give him a respite from- 

His Husker’s voice, nearly garbled as he cackled over the notion of trusting Alastor, playing over and over, like a stuck needle atop a scratched record in the Radio Demon’s mind. 

_From the memory-_

The image of a stranger, a bedraggled cat demon with drooping wings and a tattered top hat, slumped over an empty bottle of a repugnantly cheap gin. His eyes were wet, hollow, desperate for relief from torment. The perfect mark. A sucker. A sap.

The ideal fool to make a deal with, he had thought.

 _From what he’d seen-_

The faded glow of those damp, golden eyes, as they raised to see the demon who had approached. Harvest moon eclipses on a foggy, starless night. Molten gold on faded, threadbare black velvet. 

Having looked in them, Alastor had known at once the fool’s torment. Had discerned precisely the bait to lure the demon in with. He always knew, once he’d looked into their eyes and seen the broken soul within.

_From his own voice,_

He had spoken, tone bright and cheery as he spun a trapline of words and feigned empathy for the miserable demon before him. 

False sentiment, Husker would call it.

“My dear friend! It seems you’ve hit upon some hard times! Perhaps I, Alastor, can help! A heart is a heavy burden. Yes, indeed! Why, wrung nearly dry and aching with hopeless betrayal, it is akin to an anchor lodged in one’s chest!” 

_From the fateful deal-_

“But there is, of course, a small token that I would require in return for lessening your misery. A trifling little thing that you’ll never even miss! Why, most demons don’t even consider owning one worthwhile after a few years in Hell!”

_From the moment-_

He had reached out a hand, burning with the dark magics he had accumulated in life and death. With the delight of an easy victory, he had offered it with a brilliant grin and- 

“I take away the source of your pain. In return, you give me your soul, my friend. What do you say? Do we have a deal, then?” 

Without hesitation, a large paw-like hand had seized his own. The cat demon had fervently, pleadingly, blindly nodded his voiceless, eager assent. Had given away the remains of his heart; cracked and full of broken glass. Had welcomed the promise of his new, empty apathy with open arms. 

_From Husker’s inevitable realization-_

It was only later that the Radio Demon’s new servant had discovered the thorny bylines in the contract he had agreed to. He’d lost the ability to love, but he had retained the capacity to feel the lack of it. Not just for others, but for himself as well. 

It was the classic Radio Demon ploy, giving the subject exactly what they asked for, with gleeful disregard for what they truly desired. 

The old cat demon had a strange sense of honor, though. Rather than scream at the betrayal, or attempt to rebel over the trickery, he had accepted the outcome. Had somehow still been grateful for whatever reprieve that the loss of his heart had granted. 

“I’m no welcher,” the old boy had said, annoyed but resigned.

_From his own damned folly-_

Later, when Alastor found himself growing ever more fond of his new cynical, but dependable companion, the joke was truly on the Radio Demon for once, wasn’t it? He owned his Husker’s heart, but could never possess it. 

_HE WAS A FOOL, HE WAS A FOOL, HE WAS A WRETCHED HORRIBLE FOOL-!!_

“I SAID DON’T BRING THE ROOF DOWN ON OUR HEADS!” 

Alastor startled with a gasp, brought back to himself by the shout from behind. The bookshelves around him teetered as the large crystal chandelier overhead swayed. Dark things writhed in the shadows on the walls. 

The tiny owlish demoness was shrieking in outrage, swatting at him with one of her wing-like arms. Alastor vanished from the café immediately, almost forgetting to leave his usual generous helping of recompense behind.

There had to be somewhere safe for him to gather his thoughts. It just wasn’t here.

After the big red idiot was gone, the shaking began to gradually subside. Alma growled to herself as the quaking shelves stilled. A fine scattering of plaster and rock tumbled from the ceiling overhead, clattering against the chandelier and the abandoned cup and coins on the Radio Demon’s table.

“Damned menace to society, that’s what the fool is,” Alma muttered, turning to stalk back over to the counter and retrieve the child-sized broom and dust pan from behind it. 

“Now I’ve got the whole damned place to clean again and it ain’t even close to lunch yet!”

The owl demoness dragged the tools behind herself as she stomped back into the empty dining room. Alma paused to glare at the small pile of gems and gold on the deserted table. “Almost ain’t even worth it,” she spat.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hon, I’m not sure what all this is, or how it relates to the Big Secret, but I feel like you’re _possibly_ taking it just a little too far. When did you have time to make all these banners and the rest of this stuff, anyway?”

Charlie spun to face her girlfriend, a firm smile on her face. “Vaggie, you don’t understand. This is something I have to do. I can’t explain it to you right now, but it’s extra-super-duper important to me!” A big double-handful of heart-shaped balloons jostled free of the pale demoness’ arms to bob around the ceiling. 

Vaggie tilted her head, regarding her girlfriend steadily with her good eye. “Charlie, I don’t know what this thing is that you’ve found out about Alastor-“

“Because I can’t tell you!” The princess’ voice was bright and encouraging, and Vaggie nodded with a sigh at the starry-eyes beaming her way. Charlie’s infectious positivity was one of her most endearing qualities. Usually. 

“Right. But listen, don’t you think that whatever this is you’re putting together is… overkill?” Overhead, one of the bright pink balloons popped.

Charlie blinked, turning to look at the heavily-decorated dining room. Razzle and Dazzle were currently hanging streamers in shades of pink, and white from the high ceiling of the maroon room. Thousands of pastel-shaded candles, ready to be lit, stood on the table and atop pillars that had been dragged in and placed along the walls. A large basket of red and pink faux flower petals stood on the floor at the princess’ feet, ready to be spread.

“Hon. I don’t want to jump to conclusions, but this looks…”

“Romantic?” Charlie trilled the R, batting her eyelashes. 

“Very. Who are you setting up on a date, and how does that relate to Alast- oh no.” The silver-haired moth went pale as she realized what was happening. “No, no no no. Charlie, does he know you’re doing this?!” Vaggie grabbed her girlfriend by the shoulders, giving her a stern shake. 

Charlie giggled, shaking her head. “Oh, Vaggie! Come on, don’t be silly! Of course he doesn’t! It’s a surprise!”

Vaggie felt her faint, deathly pulse stop completely at that. “Charlie. Listen to me. Do not throw the Radio Demon a surprise blind date! No good can come of it,” the moth demon complained. Charlie grinned sheepishly in a way that made Vaggie more suspicious of her than ever. “It’s not a blind date?”

Charlie mimed zipping her lips and winked. As she rocked back and forth gleefully on her heels, Vaggie groaned. 

“Hon, these loophole guessing games are really not my thing. I don’t want to play this right now. Anyway, we have more important things to do than try to set up Alastor with... whoever you found out he’s apparently into. Nobody’s at the front desk, and the only person who’s seen Husk-“

Charlie squealed giddily, pointing finger guns at Vaggie. 

“Charlie? What are-?” A look of dawning comprehension broke over the moth demon’s face. “Dios mio, Charlie WHY?!”

“You guessed!” Charlie squealed happily, darting over time throw her arms around Vaggie’s neck. “I knew you’d guess it, Vaggie! I mean, in retrospect it makes SO MUCH sense!”

Vaggie grabbed Charlie by the shoulders, glaring at the excited demoness sternly. “Charlie. Stop. Right now, just stop. This isn’t your business to get involved in, and Alastor and Husk are both grown men. Let them figure their own mess out!”

In the background, Dazzle abruptly became entangled in the copious streamers hanging from the ceiling. As Razzle attempted to help, the huge mess of paper and ribbons enveloped them both. 

“No listen!” Charlie insisted. “It’ll work this time! See, I figured out where I went wrong before! I tried being suuuuuper-super-subtle talking to Husk, and he just kind of laughed. I tried being encouraging by giving an early-morning pep talk to Al, and he shut the door on me. I was out of ideas, and then it hit me! I need something big! Something that they absolutely can’t ignore! What their situation needs is a huge, romantic GRAND GESTURE!” 

She flung her arms wide with the proclamation, just in time for her tiny bodyguards and three miles of paper and ribbons to fall from the ceiling as the remaining balloons all spontaneously popped. The collapse set off a domino effect of toppling candles and violently upended flower baskets, leaving the two women in a room full of romantic wreckage.

Vaggie massaged the bridge of her nose as flower petals rained gently down on them both. “This doesn’t call for anything, other than a clean up and some aspirin. This is Alastor’s problem. And Husk’s. Not yours.”

Charlie’s large eyes watered, and she grabbed for her girlfriend’s hands. “But I can help! Vaggie, if you’d just seen the look on Al’s face! He’s hurting over this. The Radio Demon, Vaggie. He’s actually hurting over not being able to tell Husk how he feels!”

Before her girlfriend could do more than raise a finger, Charlie was pacing the room. “And Husk-! Husk’s got to be the loneliest looking demon I’ve ever seen! Oh Vaggie, and the solution is just…! Right there! I can fix it! I can fix it for both of them, if I can just figure out how!”

The princess of Hell paused in her pacing, resting a hand atop the large wad of streamers and goat boys in the middle of the floor. “It’s like this mess, don’t you see? The situation looks like a hopeless tangle, but-!”

Charlie made a show of selecting a particular strand of ribbon and with a snap of her wrist, the entangled mess tightened into a large knot. The trapped Razzle and Dazzle squeaked in surprised discomfort. Charlie grinned sheepishly, muttering soft apologies to the small creatures. 

Vaggie shook her head, long hair swaying to and fro behind her like a cape. “But sweetheart, it’s not your place to try and fix their relationship,” Vaggie insisted, stepping up to help free the goat boys. 

Charlie’s eyes watered at that, and she bit her lip as Vaggie produced a large pair of scissors and began to cut Charlie’s prisoners free. “Vaggie, surely I can do this much. I mean, I’m the princess. I’m supposed to run Hell one day, right? That means solving the problems of my subjects. If I can’t even fix Alastor up with the demon he’s been pining for, then what good am I? What kind of leader am I supposed to be!?”

Vaggie put a hand on the blonde’s shoulder with a sigh. “I know you mean well. I honestly do. But, think about what you just said; is this really about Alastor and Husk? Or is it about you?” 

Charlie stiffened, lip trembling. “I- I just want everyone to be safe and h-happy, Vaggie. Why is that wrong?” Her tiny bodyguards clustered around her to mutter sympathetically and glare at the moth demoness, their earlier peril forgotten and forgiven. 

“I mean, we’re happy? Right?” The princess’ voice cracked, and Vaggie forced herself not to flinch. 

“We are, yes,” she agreed, reaching to brush flower petals from atop Charlie’s head. “But sweetie, playing matchmaker is not being helpful if you’re doing it for yourself instead of for the people you’re supposed to be helping. And uh… it kinda sounds like Alastor’s not very receptive to your help to start with.”

The princess groaned, wiping her eyes with her wrist. “I want to feel like I’m making a difference, Vaggie. I just… I don’t know how to do it. I thought the hotel, that redemption was the way to go about it. It made sense to me, you know?”

When Vaggie nodded, giving the blonde an encouraging smile, Charlie crossed her arms and continued. “We’re not doing so hot, though. Our reputation is in the sewer, our main benefactor thinks what I’m trying to do is one big joke, and then there’s what Husk said. It won’t leave me alone.”

Vaggie brushed a handful of ribbons and flower petals from one of the dining room chairs. Gently pushing Charlie into taking a seat, she leveled her girlfriend with the deadliest gaze in her considerable repertoire. “What did he say? If he was rude to you, I will personally go kick his ass, Alastor or no Alastor.” 

Razzle and Dazzle exchanged glances at that before deciding their energies would be better spent on cleaning up the mess the dining room had become, before Niffty sniffed the carnage out and appeared to scold everyone over it.

Charlie laughed, bright peals of giggles warming her face as she mustered up a watery smile. “Well, he told me that I was the reason he was sure that Redemption was a total farce.” When Vaggie looked puzzled, the blonde’s smile turned more bittersweet. 

“He says that if Heaven won’t let me in, then no one else has a chance. That… that I was innocent and- Oh, Vaggie! What if he’s right?!”

Vaggie bolted over to kneel in front of the chair and threw her arms around Charlie as the princess let out a heaving sob. “Hey, hey, no! Listen to me, Husk may be right about one thing- you’re too good and pure for this world. But that doesn’t mean that Redemption can’t be real! And it doesn’t mean that trying for it isn’t worthwhile. He can be right about one and wrong about the other.”

The moth smiled warmly, taking a dainty lace handkerchief offered by Dazzle and gently blotting away Charlie’s tears. “He’s like a stopped clock, you know? Only right twice a day.”

When her girlfriend giggled at that, Vaggie wrapped her arms around the blonde tightly. “My abuelita, she used to say that we can’t always know the reasons things happen. We just have to trust that we’ll find our way through in the end. Have faith, you know?”

Charlie scoffed softly. “You’re telling the literal daughter of Lucifer to have faith?”

“I’m in Hell, I can be as sacrilegious as I like,” Vaggie sniffed, earning a new laugh from her darling. “Anyway, I meant you need to have faith in yourself, and your convictions.” She glanced around the room before adding “But eh… maybe ease off trying to set up Alastor and Husk, huh? If one of them wants help, they’ll ask for it. Respect their autonomy, even if you think they’re being dumb.”

Charlie leaned against Vaggie’s thin shoulder with a resigned sigh. A sly smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she thought the situation over. “What if my convictions say they oughta give each other a shot?”

“Always trying to find a loophole, Hon?”

“Well, I am my father’s daughter, I hear…”

Vaggie pulled back to poke Charlie in the forehead. “Bad antichrist. No sugar for you!” 

“Noooo, my sugar!” the princess mock-wailed, clinging to Vaggie’s arm as she slid, laughing, to the floor. “Vaggie, you’re so mean to me! Bring my kisses back!”

Vaggie let herself be pulled down too, leaning over to kiss the tip of Charlie’s nose. “Listen, part of having faith in yourself is knowing yourself and being honest with yourself. And that means realizing when you’re trying to be helpful and when you’re trying to run someone’s afterlife for them. Let them come to you. If they want to. When they’re ready.”

“What if they’re never ready?” the blonde asked, her voice a soft, hesitant whisper. 

“Then they were never going to be ready in the first place,” Vaggie replied, her voice equally soft. A mournful tone crept into her words as she stood, pulling Charlie up with her. “And they may never be. But it’s up to them, not us. We can’t make them be happy. Or ready.”

The door to the dining room was abruptly kicked open, revealing Niffty. Razzle and Dazzle gave shrieky bleats of terror, leaping for Charlie’s arms. 

Niffty stared, her single eye twitching and wide at the carnage before giving a howling war cry. Pulling a broom and dust pan from behind her back, she dove into the mess of paper and petals.

“I think… My convictions say we should get out of the way!” Charlie yelped, flinching back from the force of cleaning energy that was tearing through the room around them like a tornado of pine-scented mayhem. 

“I have faith in your judgement! Let’s go!” Vaggie cried, grabbing the princess by the shoulders and steering her and her passengers for the door. “Whatever you do, don’t stop moving!”

—-

Husk traced a delicate filigree into the lime peel sitting on the bar cutting board with his index claw. He’d been late this morning, but there was no one around to care. It was quiet. Peaceful. The perfect recipe for indulging in a hobby. 

A shallow angle, a quick turn, and he gently plucked up the edge of the design. 

“And the magic words: Hocus, pocus, all in one peel,” he muttered softly to himself. Slow, gentle tugs pulled the unwanted rind free, leaving a pale white space surrounded by an intricate tangle of elaborately carved leafy vines. 

The cat demon squinted critically at the resulting image. No leftover bits taunted him by remaining. No accidental slices had made their way all the way through to the cutting board surface. It was flawless. 

Husk let himself smile at the results. Tossing the unwanted piece into the trash since it was too thin to zest quickly and easily, he turned to grab a glass. 

Sure, it would be more sanitary to do this sort of thing with a paring knife, but this was just practice, anyway. Who the fuck cared if he was just doing it to maintain his skill and dexterity.

And if he drank the result because it was unsanitary to serve anyone else? Well that was just a bonus, wasn’t it? 

A few ounces of gin and some some club soda by sight, a jigger of agave nectar and a squeeze of lime juice. Now a quick muddle of mint, and it would be ready to garnish. He sorted through his supplies under the bar, humming thoughtfully. Aha! Mint at last! He grabbed a decent-sized sprig and the pestle with a smirk. 

It was quick work to pulverize the leaves into the cocktail. Now there was only one step to go. Husk picked up his delicate piece of handiwork, and cast about for a suitable holder in his supplies. This needed something showy, but not so extravagant that it would overshadow his carefully traced leaves. 

A plastic swizzle? Too pedestrian. A bamboo skewer? Too rustic. An oversized gold pin? Too gaudy. Wait! A tempered glass swizzle. Shiny, but not showy. Ordinary, but not mundane. It was perfect! Maybe he’d take a picture of the finished product for the Internet? Al wasn’t lurking around today, and well… okay, he could admit to being proud of himself for his little bit of handiwork on that lime peel. 

He carefully folded the peel to best show off the design before sliding it onto its new home. 

He was already pent up with sloth, envy and greed, might as well let pride join the party, too. Maybe he’d eventually collect the whole Deadly Seven, who… knew…?

His clawed hand closed on air when he reached for the glass he’d left on the counter. What the fuck? 

“Thanks for the drink, babe!” Angel Dust cooed, eyeing the concoction as he swirled the glass in his hand. “I usually go for the sweet stuff, but hey! Free drinks is free drinks!”

Husk gaped in disbelief as Angel threw back the contents of the glass with a cackle. 

“What the fuck..?” the cat demon muttered as Angel returned the mostly-drained glass to the counter. 

“What the fuck?” he repeated as Charlie, Vaggie and the goat boys came racing in, trailing ribbons and flower petals in their wake. 

“Eh..? Whassamatter with you, Whiskers?” Angel asked, squinting at the enraged cat demon. 

**“WRATH! OF FUCKING COURSE!”** , Husk yowled, squeezing the glass swizzle stick so hard that it broke on his claws, the shards digging into his palm. Throwing it and his forgotten, carefully-sculpted fan of lime peel to the ground, the enraged cat demon hopped the bar and stormed across the lobby. 

“Husk, wait!” Charlie cried as the tall figure jostled past her. “Where are you going?!”

Husk’s eyes were brightly burning, luminous hellfires when he looked back from the door. “Out,” he snapped, slamming the door behind him. The pictures on the nearby walls clattered with the force.

Vaggie and Charlie gave each other a stunned look as Angel, thoroughly baffled, asked “Was it something I said?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor returns to the hotel to find that something has happened.

_It hurt._

Husk’s pace through the streets was brisk enough that the claws of his feet scratched against the pavement with every hastened step.

_It hurt._

His large, paw-like hands were clenched into fists, the cuts in the right one throbbing in time with his pulse. He angled his fingers and dug his claws into the heels of his palms.

Fuck it all, he was too old for all of this shit.

_It hurt._

Fuck charity work. Fuck idealistic garbage. Fuck obligations to the asshole who stole your heart because all he wanted was your soul. Fuck having even a tiny moment of peace in this stupid eternity of torment.

_He was done._

Done with being the resident sad sack, on display behind the hotel bar like a goddamned animal in the zoo. ‘Come check in at the Happy Hotel and check out the stupidest fucking demon in Hell! No matter how much your afterlife sucks, at least you’re not this poor fucker!’

_He was done._

Done with the false sentiment being served up to him daily like the others expected him to live off of that shit. Head pats and platitudes, words of so-called encouragement that didn’t reach beyond the fuzzy surfaces of his stupid cat ears. 

They weren’t allowed inside his head. They were all as empty and meaningless as the ones that had come before. 

The common wisdom was this, after all: Give the poor fucker some encouragement, tell him things can improve if he looks up. 

_He was done._

Look up and you miss the guy next to you sticking his foot out to trip you. That was truth. That was fact. That was something he knew he could keep his belief in, and fuck all if anyone was prying any of the few things he could still trust out of his stupid demon cat claws. God knew there were precious enough few things he did trust these days.

It didn’t matter what people said, it was all part of the show. Keep the eyes and mind occupied so that the mark doesn’t notice as you snag their wallet, or whatever it was you wanted from them. He’d learned that lesson well enough when he was alive, he didn’t need it proven over and over again afterwards. 

Alastor’s grinning face flashed in his mind’s eye, and he swore to himself loudly in German, startling a few passers by into clearing a path as he veered off the street and down a trash-filled alley.

No, sir. He was done. He was done being the Radio Demon’s personal dancing puppet. Done being the fall guy, the chump, the loser who everyone either used or got their daily helping of feel-good points off of for making an effort to pretend to tolerate. Done having the metaphorical chain on his collar yanked any time someone wanted a laugh. 

Done, done, and **done.**

He hated it, hated himself, and hated that there were only a few ways to get rid of feeling shitty as fuck in Hell. 

Drinking would only numb the feelings for a little while before sending him tumbling down an even shittier spiral. Gambling was hardly tempting when he could barely see for the rage and spite boiling within his guts. He’d lost enough by not knowing when to fold. 

The only option left was being rid of Alastor, one way or another. 

He had tried off and on over the years to infuriate Alastor himself to the point of the red jackass just getting sick of him and either dismissing him or offing Husk himself, but to no avail. The guy must really get off on watching Husk be miserable. That was the only reason for keeping him around that made sense. 

Why else would Husk have survived the tirade of profanities he’d directed at the quasi-overlord’s dear, sainted mother on one particularly inspired occasion a few years prior?

He’d been at the end of his rope at that point. A series of stupidly dangerous stunts from Alastor had the frayed threads of his patience snapping and he’d thrown everything he could think of at the cervine-styled demon who owned him, desperate to be through with their deal. There had been no line he’d been unwilling to cross in his quest for ending their association, and all it had gotten him was a brisk slap across the face. 

In all honesty, that stunt had probably ensured Al would never give up owning him. It had been so far out of bounds that the Radio Demon hadn’t even been able to summon up a proper level of retaliatory outrage. 

No, instead Husk had ensured that his wretched soul would be forever ensnared. There would be no escaping from his clutches. Alastor had figured out Husk’s game and proceeded to best his intentions to get out of their contract at every turn after that. 

No more calls for backup in battles with higher-level demons. No more summons for frivolous stunts in enemy territory. Nothing that would allow the cat demon a chance to make a new contract with someone more powerful- or if he was feeling particularly macabre, to have a happy accident on the end of something permanently lethal. 

No, if Alastor summoned him now, it was for fucking mundane-ass shit like making drinks in a dive hotel. Husk’s opportunities to rid himself of his debt and himself were stymied anew at every turn. Going anywhere on his own never seemed to work out, either. The damned Radio Demon had a sixth sense for Husk being someplace he should not. 

There was, however, one card Husk had left to play. He’d kept it secret after his stunt calling Alastor’s ma every name in the book. It was his ace. His last resort. He’d carefully kept it concealed for fear of the Radio Demon discovering and eliminating it as well. He paused under the shredded awning of a long-ago store, pulling his hat from his head. Inside, slipped carefully just inside the liner, a business card waited for him. 

He’d been made an offer once. A counter to Alastor’s own. Maybe it was finally time to take it? Sure, there was a non-zero possibility that he might end up erased, but was that really so bad? What was non-existence compared to eternal fucking torture? It was what he wanted, wasn’t it? Freedom, no matter the cost? 

The notion was practically heaven, dancing tantalizingly in front of his nose. The glossy surface of the card seemed to wink at him. 

The empty space in his chest pulled with the heaving of his breath, and he resolutely pushed the sensation aside. There was no sense dwelling on the emptiness. He was done, right? Done with all of it, right?

“Right,” he assured himself before pulling out the card and his phone. Might as well give the dice a last roll for old times sake.

What did he have to lose, anyway?

—

Alastor manifested in the hotel lobby with a carefully manufactured smile on his face. Perfectly presentable, and not so much as a hair out of place. 

He was ready to face Husker, and pretend that there was nothing between them but a contract. He was ready to face Charlie, and whatever new relationship-building mania she had doubtless been hard at work on. He was even prepared to face Angel, and the daily suggestion that he “replace the stick up his ass” with something else. 

He was not prepared for nearly the entire populace of the hotel to be in the lobby yelling at each other at the tops of their lungs. 

Overwhelmed by the cacophony of voices, the Radio Demon summoned his microphone. “Oh whoa, whoa!” the demonic weapon cried, distressed by the noise. “What’s all this? Hey! Everybody CAN IT!” A piercing siren of feedback screeched shrilly from the device, silencing the other occupants of the room.

“Finally! It’s getting so a fellow can’t hear himself think around here!” the microphone complained, giving them all a critical glare before vanishing back into the nether. 

Alastor regarded the crowd of wide-eyed gazes with an expectant grin. “Well now, that was quite the performance. You were nearly bringing down the house! Ha! To what do I owe the exceptional and may I say loud welcome?

Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel Dust all gave each other guilty looks. Charlie’s peculiar little artificial demon companions covered their faces with their hands. Niffty gave a loud tsk as she resumed sweeping up the copious amount of flower petals all over the room. 

”Charlie, darling? What in the underworld is happening here? I feel as if I have... interrupted something.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Angel Dust abruptly shouted. Alastor’s eyes narrowed skeptically, even as Charlie darted over to fling herself between them.

“It wasn’t anyone’s *fault*, really,” she began, a wavering customer service smile struggling to remain on her face. “I think he was just having a bad morning, and well… got set off.”

Alastor cocked his head to the side, confused. “I’m afraid that I don’t follow, dear girl. Of whom are we speaking?”

Charlie threw a lip-biting glance back over her shoulder at Vagatha before facing him again. “Husk went storming out of here about half an hour ago. He didn’t say where he was going, or when he’d be back. He was really mad.”

Vaggie stepped up to stand beside her girlfriend as Charlie spoke. Angel Dust flinched as Alastor’s eyes skimmed past the duo in front of him to regard the spider. The culprit behind this anomaly was simple to discern. 

“What did you do?” He was calm. Calm like the deathly stillness of the Louisiana shoreline before the storm surge of a hurricane made landfall. 

Angel shook his head, clearly as confused as he was panicked. “I didn’t do nothin’ weird, Smiles! He put a drink on the counter when I was walkin’ up, and I figured it was for me so I did what’cha do with drinks! He just went off! Yelled about wrath or somethin’, and was out the door like he was gonna go fuck some shit up!”

Alastor’s senses prickled, and he turned to walk over to the bar. The faint aroma of lime and blood was making his nose twitch, and the source wasn’t hard to find. Ignoring Niffty’s complaint that she hadn’t cleaned the mess there yet, Alastor stepped behind the counter.

The culprit behind his sensory discomfort was immediately apparent. Alastor reached down and picked up a thin piece of glass with a delicate piece of carved citrus rind still speared atop it. Dark demonic blood was still clinging to the stem of the broken swizzle.

“Odd,” Alastor said at last, turning the somewhat battered garnish in his fingers. “I shall solve this little mystery post-haste, I assure you.” 

Vaggie, sensing no murderous intent from the Radio Demon, seemed to relax as she spoke up. “How are you going to find him? He didn’t say anything about where he was going.”

Alastor grinned unpleasantly at the group before him. “When one owns something, one generally knows where to find it.” Niffty was the only one who seemed unaffected by the toothy malice that fairly dripped from him. She briskly scurried through the background, single-mindedly sweeping and sanitizing without concern for what was happening around her.

Charlie’s expression was a grimace of concern as she stared up at him. Before she could make some well-meaning offer to be of help, Alastor turned, reaching out through the shadows with his power. He didn’t need any aid finding his wayward right hand. Husker’s own blood and the contract between them would serve that purpose well enough. 

He raised a hand with a smirk, having found his quarry, and _pulled_. The pool of his shadow below his feet trembled, quaked, and then surged upwards to meet his hand. The pillar of darkness ballooned almost comically before it popped apart, and Husk’s dazed body was dumped in the floor at Alastor’s feet. 

The cellphone that had been clutched in the cat demon’s clawed hand clattered to the floor, an outgoing call ringing mindlessly away on the screen. A small black rectangle fluttered to the ground alongside it.

Alastor plucked both from the floor, sneered at the name on the shiny black surface, and disconnected the call before turning the thing off and shoving it in his coat pocket. The card he incinerated with a flick of his fingers.

“Omigosh!” Charlie yelped as she and Vaggie stood over the sluggishly groaning Husk. “Al is he okay?”

“What the hell did you do to the guy?” Angel Dust gaped as Vaggie reached out to check the weakened demon’s pulse. 

“Merely disoriented from the sudden journey as I summoned him,” Alastor scoffed. “I may not have been very gentle about it, but my concerns merited a fast retrieval.” Alastor’s shadow-self manifested beside him, hoisting the half-aware Husk over its thin shoulder with a sneering grin at them all. 

“Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I shall put our old friend to bed. It seems he’s not feeling well, poor thing.” He exchanged cheerful waves with the studiously cleaning Niffty and turned away. 

“Alastor, just a minute!” Charlie reached out, snaring the sleeve of his coat in her hand. The taller demon froze. Slowly, stiffly, his head rotated to regard her over his shoulder. 

“Dear girl. Mind the five foot rule,” he rasped, his voice low and filled with static. Razzle and Dazzle darted forward, only to find themselves clinging to the chandelier overhead in horrified confusion. Angel Dust dove behind the closest sofa with a yelp. 

The princess’ eyes widened as she realized what she had done, but her fingers dug in all the tighter to the fabric of his coat. Behind her, Vaggie was flailing for a weapon, and only coming up with a floor lamp. She seized it and pointed it in his direction as gamely as could be hoped from a self-styled protector. 

“Al, don’t do this,” the princess was saying, her voice firm and something close to resolute. “Don’t just vanish and start over at square one. Talk to him, okay?”

“What do you think I could possibly say?” Alastor growled, stepping into the princess of Hell’s own personal space bubble with fury written on his brow. “What magical words do you possess that can make this situation right?”

He leaned over Charlie, who hastily dropped his sleeve in favor of showing him her passive, open palms. His smile was a sneering snarl, a furious rejoinder given form and teeth. 

Husk’s own words flashed in Charlie’s mind as she stared up at the enraged Alastor. Her mind was racing, trying to come up with a better response to his outrage than “I am the princess and I demand that you quit it!” Husk had called her attitude condescending. It had hurt to hear, but maybe she had needed to hear it. 

Vaggie had told her that she was trying to push the two demons together for her own gratification, rather than the sake of their own feelings. That had hurt to hear even more, since it came from someone she loved. But she had needed to hear that, too.

“You’re right,” she muttered softly. “I’m sorry, Alastor. I’ve been putting my own feelings over yours. I… I haven’t been respectful of what you’ve told me, and I think I made things worse because of it.”

Alastor was frozen in place, the furious grin on his face falling into a small, puzzled smile as she spoke. 

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I hope that you’ll accept my apology. And.. And also accept my sincere hopes that you’ll find the right words to fix things.”

For a moment, the two stared at each other in silence. As Niffty dove behind the bar to tidy, the spell was broken. Alastor straightened with a slightly more good-natured grin. 

“I accept your apologies and well-wishes,” he replied, stepping back to his shadow’s side and clearing his throat with a soft cough. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe I am going to try following your example, Princess.”

Husk was beginning to stir groggily as Alastor raised his hand. “Repenting is the first step towards redeeming oneself, I understand.” With that, he snapped his fingers and vanished with Husk and his shadow. 

Charlie’s initial slack-jawed state gave way to a high-pitched shriek of excitement. 

“VAGGIEEEEE! HE _DID_ READ OUR BROCHURE!”

The moth demon gave a bone-weary groan as she slid to the floor. “Charlie hon, this is not the time.”

Niffty giggled to herself as she swept up the broken glass and cleaned the droplets of blood staining the wood floor. A little polish and the place would be shiny and good as new once again. 

Now if Alastor could just fix things up with Husk, she’d consider the day officially salvaged. That happy thought lasted her through the end of her cleaning. 

As she dumped the waste bin into the incinerator, it occurred to her that she still didn’t know why Husk was mad at Alastor in the first place. Surely it couldn’t be anything serious. Working with Alastor was so much fun, after all! There was no reason to suspect he wouldn’t accept a heartfelt apology and everything could go back to how it was before once again. 

“Everything back to how it was before,” she sighed happily, staring into the dancing flames.


	5. Chapter 5

Husk stared at the ceiling, allowing himself a moment to simply exist. He was sprawled on his bed, where Alastor’s shadow had deposited him like a uniquely troublesome sack of potatoes. 

Alastor himself was darting here and there in the periphery of Husk’s vision, a continuous drone of commentary flowing out of his mouth as he blathered on about whatever was on his mind. Husk didn’t know what it was that he was hearing, he didn’t have the wherewithal to actually listen. 

He was in the trap again. 

It was over. His one chance at a potential escape was up in smoke and he was back again. The same ceiling over his head, with crumbling plaster and copious cracks. The same Alastor, making his typical level of noise. The same great cavernous void in his chest that pulled and creaked with every breath his lungs wrestled from the smoggy depths of Hell.

He wasn’t allowed to leave the Radio Demon’s game, so now what? 

He could simply stop playing. Quit putting a mostly a mostly-tolerant face on his eternal servitude and just commit to being a corpse-like heap of dead weight until Alastor reached his breaking point and did… something.

How long could he stay in one place without moving? It was an almost interesting question to consider. Were bed sores a thing in Hell? He could find out. 

How long did it take for a demon to crumble to dust under the weight of just not giving a shit anymore? Could you remain damned when you no longer gave a damn?

Alastor was leaning over him now, expression somewhat reproachful as he lectured onward, now something to do with Husk’s confiscated hellphone. The device was being waggled over Husk’s face as Alastor spoke, and the dark screen reflected the cat demon’s blankly staring face back at him.

He looked like shit, if shit stopped trying. 

Alastor ceased his prattle at last, pausing to take in the reaction he was getting- or rather the lack of it. The warped, underwater sound of his muffled voice seemed to tune itself to a clearer frequency as Husk’s reluctant interest focused on him. 

“That’s it? You have nothing to say? My word, Husker, this is an even poorer sort of conversation than I anticipated from you. Can you even hear me? Hello?”

Husk glared flatly up at the expectant look on Alastor’s face. “I can hear ya. I ain’t gotta listen to ya, though.”

“There you are!” Alastor cried, delighted to have finally gotten a response. “I was beginning to worry, old friend! Now, shall I start over? I have a few things I want to say. Perhaps I can get them out in something less of a muddle, having been given a second chance to say them.”

Husk let his gaze drift back to the poorly-executed patch in his ceiling that looked a little like the side view of a funnel lily. A momentary flash of childhood’s whimsy attempted to pull at the place where his heart had been. 

Reaching, grasping blindly, connecting with nothing. It ached.

“Now,” Alastor was saying, “As I said before, I have come to realize over the long years of our acquaintance that the… shall we say the conditions of our partnership are unsatisfactory.”

“No shit,” Husk ground out, teeth gritted against the void in his chest. 

“Yes, I am adamant about the total and complete lack of shit,” Alastor agreed. “And it is my dearest wish, Husker, to rectify this in the hope that it may not be too late to salvage our…”

Alastor paused then, hand still poised in the air as he searched his considerable vocabulary for the word most appropriate to his intent. 

Despite his aching melancholy, Husk raised his eyes to stare at the strange event. Alastor at a loss for words was alien, somehow terrifying. It was an event that Just Didn’t Happen. 

Alastor caught his gaze and a nervous flicker pulled at the edges of his confident smirk. Husk frowned, rubbing at his chest as if he could massage the empty prickling behind his lungs away. It was like the first breathless gasp of nighttime chill from the desert had taken up residence in his body and refused to leave.

“The fuck are you up to now?” The cat demon growled wearily. “What’s left? What can you possibly want from me now?

Alastor’s expression gave a weird flip, his smile momentarily upside-down as he recoiled from the question. 

“I… This is difficult for me. I had no idea how difficult it would be, but I would ask for your indulgence for just a moment. A moment of complete and utter sincerity, Husker.”

Husk stared, and said nothing.

“I know you have no reason to give credence to my words. My actions have robbed me of the skill to lay bare my wretched soul and ask that it be judged as genuine long ago. But-! If you would allow me, just a moment of truth amidst years of lies, I would grant you any boon in my power.”

“What,” Husk finally spat, “The hell does that mean? You want me to make a deal with you? Again?”

He pushed himself upright, glaring at the other demon furiously. “You think I’m fucking stupid or something, Alastor?!”

“I want you to listen to me!” Alastor snapped back, red-on-red eyes blazing. “Listen to me, not simply hear me! I will give you anything in my power if you will listen- and pray, give my sincerity the favor of being free of doubt!”

Husk’s ears flattened and his tail began to thrash behind him. “Yeah? And what’s in it for you, huh? What kind of sick new game is this?! I’ll be double-damned if I get made a chump again!”

Alastor’s own ears were snapped forward now, great rounded warning signs that the entirety of his attention was on the snarling cat demon before him. He stamped a foot suddenly in agitation, giving a decidedly un-Alastor-like whuff of air. 

“What must I do, Husker? Name your terms! Give me your conditions! Write them in my blood, if you must! I cannot abide this… this excruciating folly any longer!”

Husk was halfway to his feet when he registered what had been said. His mind blanked in shock with what he was hearing, and he nearly face-planted into the floor. Alastor roughly caught him, slowing his descent to a merely uncomfortable collapse of limbs he couldn’t remember how to operate.

“The fuck-“ Husk breathed, staring up at Alastor’s grimly serious, unsmiling face with horror. “The fuck’s wrong with you?! Writing things in blood-?! That shit’s permanent, Alastor!”

“I know.”

“Binding-level permanent!”

“I know, Husker.”

“What the FUCK’S wrong with you?!”

“Will you listen if I tell you?”

Husk’s mouth worked for a moment as his senseless brain tried to cycle itself back up to something resembling operating speed. “A-alright,” he managed at last, staring up from the floor in blank-minded shock as Alastor took a moment to collect himself.

“Alright,” Alastor agreed, straightening his bow tie and the fall of his coat tails with a tug, “Let’s try this again. I wish to apologize, first and foremost. I wronged you. I purposely made a deal with you to bind you into my service for a misrepresented price. Had I known then what I know now, I would have never made such a poor offer to you, my friend.”

He paused expectantly then, and Husk silently stared up at him in blank confusion. Clasping his hands loosely before him, the Radio Demon continued. 

“I have come to realize, over the long years of our acquaintanceship, that I greatly regret having bamboozled you thusly. I have come to treasure your sharp wit, your particular brusque companionship. Why, your rare moments of genuine warmth are what kindles the remains of my human soul to wakefulness from its long hibernation. What stirs it from the crevasse where I flung it to what I thought was an eternal, arctic grave.”

Husk seemed frozen, large eyes fallen wide with what seemed clear disbelief. Alastor took a deep breath, noting the unfamiliar shudder of his own long-dead heart. This was it. Cards, as Husker himself would say, on the table. No going back now. 

“I don’t expect you to return the feelings that have crept, unbidden, into my heart. I merely wish to give context. To plead that you understand my reasoning, when I say that I wish to release you from our hateful arrangement.”

“Release..?” Husk breathed, his voice barely more than a disbelieving whisper. 

“Yes,” Alastor agreed with an eager nod. “I would liberate you from your bond. Ask whatever you wish in return. There is no price too dear for me to pay for such a thing as your freedom from our arrangement.”

“Freedom?” The word seized Husk by the lungs and squeezed his breath out. His head though; his head was another story. His mind was churning with so many thoughts he could scarcely contain them. 

It was a trick, right? Of course it was a trick. It had to be a trick. The notion that Alastor- of all demons, Alastor! Might say those things. Might suggest fondness of any sort other than amusement at the spectacle of one of his wretched underlings squirming on the pike they’d invited into their guts.

Husk blinked rapidly as the urge to say something equally meaningless and saccharine darted through his mind. “What a nice sentiment,” didn’t seem quite blatant enough. It didn’t matter that Al had decoded that little pleasantry years ago. On the other hand, “I don’t fucking believe you” was a little too on the nose. 

What in all nine circles of Hell was Alastor even up to with this? Was this some kind of gag? Some new unfathomable game in the Radio Demon’s twisted repertoire? Was that why it was so dire that Husk humor this ridiculousness? So that Alastor could laugh at the spectacle of whatever the hell face Husk was making right now?

He wasn’t sure what his expression was, the entirety of his body seemed to have gone utterly numb. 

Alastor wasn’t laughing, though. Alastor was staring at him without as much as a smirk, eyes tired and serious. 

The notion the words came from a place of earnestness barely emerged from the troubled depths of Husk’s mind before he drowned the idea in recalled pain. The place where his heart had been twisted with emptiness. No one could feel like that towards him. He’d been taught that well enough. He had the marks to prove it. Had traded away the capacity for it. 

There was no such thing as tender fondness for someone like him. Not even from himself. Husk pushed the idea resolutely aside. There was no way it was possible. Something else had to be happening, here. 

“Are you fucking cursed or something?!” Husk blurted out, thrashing his limbs until they reluctantly came back under his control. He scrambled backward away from Alastor, nearly hissing in confused terror. ”Someone put a hex on you? One of those ‘can’t talk about it’ things? An’ fuck, I’m the only one who knows you well enough for you to tip off with weird as fuck behavior!?”

“NO!” Alastor shouted, reaching up to grab at his own ears in frustration. “I’m completely serious! Husker, I wish to make amends and free you from my service! I genuinely desire your freedom and happiness, even if it’s not with me- though I dearly wish it were!”

Husk’s mouth fell open as he listened. The two stared at each other. One in hair-pulling frustration and the other in barely-cognizant shock. 

Alastor coughed self-consciously, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeves. “Now, if you please, what must I do to relieve you of your obligation to me?”

Husk swayed a little on his feet as he tried to reconcile the notion in his head. Freedom. Alastor granting his freedom. No sneaky hidden clauses. No twisted mockery of a performance to make a fool of him. 

And all he had to do was ask for something in return? The notion that this whole thing had to be a crank wriggled again in his mind. There was a catch. There was always a catch. 

Asking for Alastor’s own heart had a certain level of dark karmic appeal. What would Alastor do, given such an opportunity? No no, too dangerous. Too many ways that could go awry.

Maybe he’d ask for a measure of Alastor’s power. Just enough to set himself up comfortably for the rest of eternity? Far, far too dangerous. Having power is how you got stupid bastards looking to make a name for themselves knocking on your door picking fights.

He wished idly that the reincarnation thing he’d heard about back on Earth was a thing. He’d tell Alastor to sign him up for that shit. Being out of Hell for a while, even as someone else, would be nice. Hell, especially as someone else. It’d be like a vacation for his consciousness until his soul was back in Hell again. (Of course it would be back in Hell again.)

“Do I gotta take the heart back?” He asked, and Alastor waved a hand, conjuring up a rickety-looking image from nothingness. It was a heap of crystalline shards, fractures only loosely held together- by habit as much as anything else. Vaguely, it resembled a heart.

It emitted a weak glow in a similar faded yellow-orange as Husk’s own eyes. Like the marks on the plumage he’d been cursed with by whatever chuckleheaded fucker was in charge of designing demonic forms. 

He wanted it. 

He hated it. 

He feared it.

He wanted it, though. 

“I’m afraid that dissolving our original arrangement would mean you must take possession of it once more, yes,” Alastor agreed, staring at the fitfully-sputtering item as if it were an uncommonly fascinating gem. 

“What if I don’t want it?” Husk rasped, voice strained and rough with emotion. 

“Then you must give it away, yourself,” Alastor replied, turning his head to give the woebegone cat demon a critical stare. 

“Feh, who’d want the fucking thing?” Husk demanded, the venom in the words weak with resignation. “Damn thing ain’t good for nothin’. S’broken. Nothin’ but pieces, and they all stick out and hurt when you touch it.”

Alastor brushed a finger over the surface of the heart, noting with interest how it trembled. 

“I would have it back,” he said softly, eyes locked on the single bead of blood that the sharp surfaces had pulled from his fingertip. “In good repair and freely given, I would have it back.”

He held the softly glowing object out. Husk stared at it distrustfully. 

“I don’t even want it,” he objected. “Nothin’ but trouble and pain.” His eyes flashed with inspiration. “That’s it. That’s what I want. Make me not fuckin’ care!” 

“What?” Alastor objected, pulling the shifting pile of weakly-pulsing fragments back to his own chest. 

“Make me not fucking care, I said!” Husk shouted. “If I gotta take that thing, I don’t wanna deal with any of the garbage that comes with it. You promised me rid of the torment of the damned thing once! Make good on it! Cauterize the thing! Wring all the emotion out of it! Whatever it takes!”

“No!” Alastor cried, pulling the heart away from the cat demon in horror. “Are you listening to yourself? Husker, that’s repugnant!”

“I don’t want it, then!” Husk yowled, fur and wings raised. “The fuck’s it matter to you? Why do you care what the fuck I do with it?! I’ll smash it! Make me take it, and I’ll tear it to bits!”

Alastor’s shadow whipped around Husk, grabbing him from behind and holding him in place as surely as being carved from stone would. Alastor stepped forward, the weakly-illuminated heart in his hands giving off trembling flutters as he drew closer.

“The fuck is this?! Al, what are you doing!?” Husk cried, struggling against the grip he was bound in. 

“What do I care?” Alastor growled as he drew closer. “What do I care?! I’ll have you know, Husker, that over the years of our arrangement I have kept watch over this heart you so despise. I have observed it’s ways and habits, and they have endeared themselves to me beyond all others. Through it, I saw you anew. Not as this.. scruffy drunkard you play at. Instead it was the filigreed iron that you carry within.”

“Trade in that monocle for glasses!” Husk spat. “The fuck do you think you’re doing with that thing?!”

Alastor leaned over the restrained cat demon, staring seriously down into his eyes. He always knew what his mark wanted, once he’d looked down into the soul bound within the demons he made a deal with. Could the reverse be true, too? 

“What do you see when you look at me, Husker?”

Husk ceased his futile struggles, staring back up into Alastor’s eyes as if transfixed. His mouth fell open in a soft gasp of shock. His head shook side to side in weak denial. 

“It ain’t possible. Alastor… you can’t…”

Alastor gave his old friend a bittersweet sort of smile.”I’m afraid, my dear, that I absolutely can.”

He took another half-step forward as his shadow released Husk. The heart, now a flickering, strobing mass of weakly-bound nerves, twitched weakly in his hands. 

“It’s going to hurt, and I’m sorry for that. Truly, I am. Please, take it back, Husker.”

“I can’t use it,” Husk complained weakly, even as he hesitantly reached for the thing. He wanted-hated-feared-wanted it. As soon as his clawed hands touched it, the heart began to dissolve from its false physical form back into Husk’s demonic body.

Alastor pulled a small, glassy sphere from his pocket as Husk stared down at the returning heart. “And since our deal is done, you’ll be needing this back, too. Your soul, my friend. Only the slightest bit creased.”

The deceptively small droplet began to glow as Alastor sat it into Husk’s claws as well. When the cat demon abruptly reeled from the energies reclaiming his form, Alastor reached to steady him.

“There may be some slight discomfort as- oh! Do be careful, Husker!” 

Husk’s entire body suddenly seemed to go limp as Alastor spoke. Pulling him gently back onto the bed, the Radio Demon tutted softly. “This concludes our negotiations, my dear. I hope the conditions were not too unfavorable.”

Husk couldn’t answer. All of his thoughts centered on the too-tight feeling of the alien heart pulsing and prickling in his chest. 

_It hurt._


	6. Chapter 6

Husk did not reappear at the bar that day. 

Nor the next. 

Alastor was similarly absent. Knocks on his hotel door went unanswered.

When Charlie went to Husk’s room, she found a note magicked to the surface that read simply. “Do as he asks, if he asks and is reasonable”, signed with Alastor’s conspicuous initial.

Charlie knocked on the dark wood surface. Gently, at first, she tapped her knuckles against the door. When she got no response, she tried again louder. 

“Husk? Are you… are you okay in there?” The princess called out, pressing her ear against the door as she intently listened. 

There was a muffled groan of a sound, not terribly different than the ones heard from the cat demon when hungover behind the bar. 

“Is he answering you?”

Charlie jumped at the unfamiliar voice that came from behind her. Whirling, fists reflexively upraised, she found herself face to exhausted face with Alastor. 

The familiar scarlet demon was uncharacteristically disheveled, hair pinned back out of his face unevenly and clothing in rumpled disarray. His face was lined with tired worry. His red eyes searched her own. 

“Not answering?” he guessed, shoulders slumping in a disappointed sigh. “Perhaps tomorrow, then. Or the next day. It could even be the next. I fear that not even he knows when he shall surface from this dreadful melancholy that he has been consumed by.”

Charlie’s face fell in confusion. The Radio Demon’s voice lacked its typical bombastic flair and tinny amplification. 

“Al, what are you talking about? Is he alright? I’m worried. Husk’s a friend, even if he acts like he thinks he’s not sometimes.”

Alastor crossed his arms, leaning against the wall beside the door. “I am trying, Charlie. I’m afraid that I am not… well-versed in the sort of magic I am attempting to do, however. Metaphysical mending is largely a self-crafted technique one uses within. I have been attempting to teach it, but I am a rather lacking instructor and at the moment Husker is an unmotivated student.”

Charlie frowned. “What are you trying to do, exactly?”

Alastor looked as if he would answer for a moment, before thinking better of it. Standing straight once more, he favored her with a small grin. 

“Never mind, my dear. I should be getting back to work.” He raised his hand as if to formally announce his exit.

“Are you okay?”

Alastor paused, mid-gesture. His startled expression melted into a surprised laugh. Meeting her gaze once more, he favored her with a gentle, fond smile that was as alien as everything else in the situation.

“He’s told me what he said to you, and he is quite right, you know. My dear, you are far too angelic not to dwell in Heaven.”

Charlie’s face flushed with surprised embarrassment at that. “N-not really, I’ve got my own issues.” She rocked back on her heels, rubbing at the back of her head.

Alastor gave a soft exclamation of amusement at that, reaching out to hesitantly clap her on the shoulder. 

“Dear young lady, don’t we all! Maman used to say, the only ones who never fail at something are the ones who never try at anything! And success is not the mark of capacity, it is testament to perseverance in the face of their many failures!” He paused, expression thoughtful. “Maman put it much more... colorfully, you must understand.”

His considering gesture and tiny, almost embarrassed smile was so startling that Charlie couldn’t contain the soft peal of laughter that burst from her lungs. 

“I think I understand. Thanks, Al.”

“Not at all. Don’t mention it,” he replied, his eyes growing sharp and short antlers elongating with the reaching shadows on the wall behind him. “...to anyone.” 

He vanished with the warning.

When he reappeared at Husk’s bedside, his expression fell back into cautious neutrality. The cat demon was currently hidden in the mass of crimson feathers heaped in the middle of the bed. 

“Husker? Are you awake, my dear?”

The wings twitched, Husk’s face peering out from the shadows beneath. Alastor wasn’t certain if it was better or worse that he was seeing the expression. 

“This ain’t what I asked for.”

Alastor summoned a large mug of bittersweet cocoa, laced with a dash of nutmeg and a copious sprinkle of cinnamon. Holding it out to the reproachful Husk, he shrugged. 

“I’m afraid that what you requested and what you asked for are two separate things, Husker. And I’ll have you know, neither of them was identical to what I saw that you actually wanted. I am doing my best to muddle through the latter. 

“I asked ya to wring the hurt outta the damned thing,” Husk accused, glaring at the offered cup. “It’s fucking agony, having this son of a bitch in my chest.”

“What you requested was to have it, and not be pained by it, if one is to consider that logically,” Alastor countered, pushing the steaming mug forward again. 

Husk’s lips pulled back in a sneer, but he straightened enough to accept the mug with one clawed hand as he wiped at his damp eyes with the other. “Fucking wise ass bastard. Alright, I’ll bite. So what is it that you’re claiming I actually wanted?”

Alastor turned his gaze towards the ceiling, staring at the myriad cracks in the plaster as Husker blew on the hot beverage and watched him suspiciously. Once the mug was drained, and the inevitable complaint at the lack of whiskey in it made, the deer demon let his eyes fall closed. 

“Help,” he replied, his voice a barely-there whisper. “That’s what you said. Help me.”

When Husk didn’t reply, Alastor spoke again. “It was the same when we first met. When I first met your gaze, that fateful day so long ago, it was the same plea. When I looked into your soul, the words cried out. Had I been a more compassionate sort, one wiser or at least able to divine my own capricious soul’s needs, they would have reached me, then and there.”

He let his eyes open again, head falling to the side so that he could see the reaction he was getting. Husk’s mug had fallen from his claws, forgotten and allowing a thin trickle of the forgotten drink to seep into the yellow bedsheets. 

Husk’s large eyes were wide, transfixed and thunderstruck by the proclamation. He didn’t so much as twitch a feathery, whiskered eyebrow as Alastor’s eyes met and held his own. 

“It is entirely your fault that I did learn to, and in all my years it was one of the few educations I never thought to seek.” Alastor sighed, turning away from the searing golden luminescence. All of his existence, he had indeed devoured knowledge as eagerly as freshly-caught flesh. 

Magics of all kinds interested him, and he greedily gorged himself on all he could collect, including the ones that called themselves sciences. Had discovered the joys of radio and broadcasting through them, once upon a time. He’d read them, puzzled over them, wrung their secrets from keepers both willing and unwilling to share their knowledge.

Maman had always said that knowledge was power, and Alastor had always been determined to have all that he could hoard. A treasure more valuable was watching now though. Husker’s eyes were on him. Gleaming golden connectors in a circuit that completed his own. The photon sphere of a bottomless black hole which would pull him in and swallow him entire if he allowed it. 

He couldn’t allow it. Not yet. 

“I long ago gave up my own heart, you see,” the deer demon explained as he walked to the small window, staring out over the hellscape with a self-depreciating grin. 

“I was not even dead yet. Barely more than twenty years old, and so utterly sick of everything. Other people were tiresome. Cattle to be lead or slaughtered, and only barely amusing for it. How I despised them.”

Husk’s voice was a breathless whisper. “Then… when you killed them..?”

“I had resolved I was not one of them. That I was Other. I was something powerful and beyond them, and for years, I reaped through them without remorse. There was nothing in them I found redeeming. Nothing in myself that I saw as reproachable or redeemable. It was all a grand game, seeing myself as a death-bringer, nearly a god among the senseless livestock populace.”

Alastor let out a soft bark of a laugh, grinning at his own smirking reflection.

“And then, I died. Death, I discovered, was only a new beginning. I had power now. True power that was beyond anything I dared imagine in life. I had a new playground to burn and bleed as I saw fit. My own heart had died of a vast, other-feeling loneliness so long before, there was no reviving it. It was nothing but a- forgive my little joke- a husk.”

Alastor turned from the window, and regarded the demon still sitting on the bed. Husk had not moved since this monologue had begun. Perhaps had not even blinked. Alastor allowed himself another self-depreciating smirk. 

“I had made deals and collected favors, boons and information, and had myself a grand old time without a second thought for decades. I found it all quite satisfying, or so I told myself. If I needed entertainment, I found someone to provide it.”

Alastor paused significantly, and Husk softly swore. Ignoring the comment, Alastor continued. “Then one day, I spied what seemed to be a desperate sort. An easy target who would amuse me anew with his hopeless plight of self-inflicted suffering.”

Alastor stride back to the bedside, watching Husk as he spoke. 

“You accepted a deal, and in my folly I took the thing that would be my downfall; your wretchedly broken heart. The thing was insufferable! Painful! It bled sorrow and compassion like it would never run out of either! At times it was all I could do to ignore it! Worse, it stirred something so long-dead in me that it took years before I could identify or even name it!”

A thin, hesitant tendril of warmth curled in Alastor’s chest as he met Husk’s gaze and held it. “Though I hated it at first, it cut its way past my defenses with those sharp edges. It reached into depths I thought unbreechable and pulled. It dragged a long-forgotten part of myself out into my soul again and I find I have become accustomed to its presence in spite of my best intentions not to.”

Husk’s mouth twitched, and he rattled out a soft “Not my… My heart couldn’t…!” of denial. 

Alastor scoffed. 

“Yes, indeed. And illuminated in this newfound, flickering candle of humanity, I found that… That I crave more. I find myself ravenous for feelings which, all my life and afterlife, I had thought impossible fairy tales for the simple-minded.”

“It’s fucking broken!” Husk cried. “What the hell are you saying?!”

“Your heart still works, even if broken, my dear. It works and it revived my own. The compassion that it bled was a transfusion I had never thought to realize I’d require. The painful blades of its broken pieces carved through my own denials and set down roots so deep I think I shall never be rid of them. I saw the world and this eternity of Hell anew through the eyes it forced me to open. It was all still so amusing, the foibles of the damned, but there was something else it bestowed.”

He regarded Husk levelly. “I found that through it, I saw you again for the first time. Learned your particular double-speak and the sleight of hand you hide your own emotions behind. I was transfixed, enthralled by my new discoveries.”

Alastor nodded to himself, his tone becoming exasperated. “And then, oh yes, and then! Make no mistake, it was not all at once with a dizzying clarity, it was a piece here and a shard there; cutting, tearing, biting its feral way down into me and I found one day I had come to know remorse, where you were concerned. Despised the realization that, had we met in the time Before, I wouldn’t have marked your specialness, and would have treated you as shamefully as I did upon our first meeting in Hell, if not worse! I felt betrayed by my own ignorance, and my own traitorous, dawning emotions!”

“You, Husker. It all kept coming back to you. You, who stood by your word without question. You, whose carefully-guarded patience and kindness is so out of place here. You, who made me aware of my own damnable inadequacies.”

Alastor gestured, and a carmine shard of magic appeared in midair between the two. The angry growl of his voice faded to a thoughtful, soft murmur. “You, who dare speak to me as if we are equals, who fear not as much as a droplet of my wrath, and if properly enraged, reprimand my many, many failings with a temper so fiery that it actually burns me.”

The red magic in Alastor’s palm blossomed into a beating, if misshapen, heart. Alastor smiled as he regarded the thing. Husk’s ears lifted to full alert at the sight. 

“Al, I don’t get it, what the fuck are you saying?”

“Unwittingly, perhaps, you performed a magic trick far beyond the parlor tricks you so adore. A miracle, some might say.”

Alastor stepped forward again, seating himself carefully on the edge of the bed and regarding Husker’s stunned expression with amusement. “My dear Husker, you made the infamously merciless, utterly heartless Radio Demon feel regret, and then went further and made him fall in love.”

Husk tore his gaze from the beating red thing in Alastor’s hands. The other demon’s expression was soft, amazed at the apparition in his own hands. “You are truly a magician without peer, dear Husker.”

“I- wait, no. I don’t get it,” Husk objected again. “You- You can’t be serious.”

“I have never been more sincere,” Alastor insisted, nodding. “I became infected, then intoxicated with the warmth that you try to hide. I desire it, as I have craved nothing before in life or death. It is why, my dapper furry friend, I became so desperate to end our arrangement. Your heart was burning me more and more from within, the longer I held onto the ill-gotten thing.”

“It’s a hurtful bastard, I’ll give you that,” Husk retorted, looking away. His expression was lost, dizzied. “So now that you’re rid of it, I guess that’s that.”

“That’s what, my dear?” Alastor asked, still cradling the glowing, ill-formed shape of his own heart in his hands. His eyes were locked into the thing, an almost child-like expression of wonder on his face.

“You’re rid of it. The… feelings or whatever are gone.”

Alastor doubled over with startled laughter, nearly depositing himself in the cold puddle of forgotten cocoa. Husk stared down at him in quiet alarm. Once he had gathered his wits once more, Alastor straightened, wiping at his teary eyes with a sleeve. 

“Oh- Oh that was a good one, Husker! Gone! Gone? Ha! Gone, indeed! Oh Husker, you truly are such a card! No, I’m afraid that they are here to stay. Bone-deep, I should think. I may never be rid of them.”

Husk swallowed, roughly. “Shit… I’m sorry, Al.”

“Whatever for?”

Husk flinched from the question, startled. “Al, look at me.”

“If you insist.”

Husk’s fur rose in agitation. “Quit playing around and look at me! Alastor, I- I’m a fucking mess! I’m a big mutant plush toy full of tacks and glass! I’m an emotional wreck who’s wrung out of this shit you’re calling love. Give me a fucking break!”

“Wrung out? You are a hemorrhaging fountain of the stuff. I’ve held your heart for decades, Husker. I believe I know of which I speak!”

“Then why am I so FUCKING EMPTY inside?!” Husk shouted, grabbing the arm still holding Alastor’s heart with a furious yowl. His wings raised and his tail thrashed behind him as he hissed his fury into Alastor’s displeased grimace.

All at once, the cat demon realized that he was grabbing at the Radio Demon, and hastily dropped his grip. Alastor took a moment, great slow breaths centering him again before he replied. 

“A cracked vessel leaks, my dear Husker. Repair it, and I think you will find yourself surprised at how quickly it fills.” 

Alastor tilted his head to the side, considering. “And that makes me think of something I was saying to our dear hostess the Princess, but a few moments ago. Husker, you told me once that you believed those copious heart-shaped markings you carry are the marks of heartbreak. Notations of failure to be loved, when you attempted to give your heart away.”

Alastor reached out toward one of the wings settling back around Husk’s shoulders, tracing a gold-hued spot with a finger. 

“Husker, have you never thought it odd? If they are marks of heartbreak, shouldn’t they be… broken?”

Husk stiffened, brows raising. “What?” he breathed.

Alastor slid his finger across the glossy feathers, admiring the markings. “Should they not be shattered? Struck through? Instead, they are whole. Conspicuously so. In fact, all of the heart marks I have ever spied upon your person are whole and unblemished.”

He raised his eyes to meet Husk’s gaze. “It must have a significance of some sort.”

Husk let out a harsh laugh, incredulous. “A sign of what, then? That didn’t learn my lesson, and was dumb enough to try again?”

“A sign that your heart was still full enough of love to try again, perhaps? I’m afraid I have never excelled at divination, and a true answer is beyond me. Yet, it’s impossible not to note that you clearly have a... heart of gold.” The Radio demon grinned as he tugged gently in one of the large primaries, just beside the golden-orange mark upon it.

Husk’s face burned with embarrassment at the teasing jab. Alastor shrugged. “Or perhaps what they mean is that you still have the ability to repair your shattered heart? The pieces are all still there. I’m afraid only you can find the way to put them back together, however.”

Husk grimaced, rubbing his hand against his chest. It felt tight, ill-fitting. It was as if he was overflowing with sentiment and the backlog was flooding his senses. 

“It’s an interesting theory,” he admitted dryly. “But fuck if I know how to fix this shit. That’s how I got into this mess.”

Alastor pulled his hand back, regret pulling his content smile into a sorrowful frown. “I wish I could tell you how. If it were in my power, I would grant it to you in an instant.”

“Hey, just a damned minute!” Husk suddenly snarled. “That reminds me, you still owe me for lettin’ me go! You were hoping I’d forget, weren’t ya? Goddamned sneak-thief bastard!”

Alastor gave a soft chuckle as he stood from the bed, bowing dramatically to his companion. “Ah, it seems that I have been found out. Very well then, what favor would you have me grant, Husker? Dream big, old boy! As I said before, the sky’s the limit!” He gestured grandly towards the patched ceiling with his free hand.

Husk stared silently at the heart still pulsing in Alastor’s right palm. At last he dropped his head, clenching his clawed hands in the bed linens. 

“I’m… Al I ain’t ever been this confused in my whole fuckin’... existence, I guess. I’m just… I got no right to ask ya for anything. I got a lotta thinking to do about this stuff you’ve been spouting at me.” He winced, face contorting in pain. “Damned thing, it hurts like hell. I don’t know how you stood it for so goddamn many years.”

“Practice,” Alastor chirped brightly. Husk flipped him off with a roll of his eyes. “Smart ass.” The other accepted the judgement with a grin and a shrug. 

Husk hesitated, nervously looking down at his clasped hands, wringing his claws against each other. “I don’t… I dunno if I can say if out loud…”

“Words spoken aloud have power,” Alastor acknowledged with a serious nod. “It is one of the most basic tenants of magic, whether real or staged. Giving voice to something gives it reality, and possibilities. Ideas.”

Husk beckoned him closer, leaning forward with an anxious frown. Alastor bowed forward once more, tilting his head to turn one of his large ears toward the nervous cat demon. One of Husk’s large brow-feathers tickled the copious fluff of his ear as Husker whispered hesitantly.

Alastor’s mouth fell open at the request, and he straightened with a soft titter. “My good man, I’ll have you know that I intended to do that anyway. Of course I’ll wait for your answer, when you’re ready. I have all eternity, and no place special to be, I’ll have you know.”

The tightness in Husk’s chest fluttered, and two of the broken pieces of his heart sealed seamlessly back together. 

——

It took years. Rather, decades. 

Years of false starts, of missteps, of on again and off again, and hurt subtle feelings and confused literal-thinking complaints. 

The number of years didn’t matter, though. One hardly counts years when one has forever to count in. Time, when eternal, is measured in moments. Despair or joy, they marked the calendar of forever that stretched lazily between the two. 

And ever so often, Husk would realize that he was pained just a little less than the day before. Some long-accustomed hurt would suddenly be lessened as he felt some new joy- or even at times, a new sorrow. Eventually, he stopped noting the absence as much, giving it less and less thought than before.

There was, at last, something made official. A first date. A second. A twentieth. A three-hundred and seventy-first. 

And at last, on date five hundred, things had gotten so serious that it merited marking their anniversary not just with a night out, but with special clothing and planned activities and threats that if Angel Dust tried popping out of a cake again like he had *last* anniversary, Alastor would consider him to actually be dessert and eat him. 

“I never have figured out what you wanted, back then. You know… Before. What did you want?” Husk asked, watching the way Alastor swirled the glass of bourbon in his hand. “Ya know, other than being the god of death and terror, that is.”

Alastor hummed, a considering sound that reverberated off the glass he’d raised to his lips. “Oh, I don’t think I even knew. Fame? Infamy, at least? I was so empty that I desperately needed to fill the void within me with something. And if the world decided that my good, wonderful Maman did not deserve to live, then who was to say I could not decide who else should be kicked violently from the mortal coil as well?”

It was Husk’s turn to hum at that. “Makes a twisted kind of sense. Plus, you probably enjoyed it.”

“Marvelously!” Alastor agreed, raising his glass in a toast. “There is a certain joy one discovers in things that they are good at. Murder, cookery, studying the secrets of every infernal magic known to exist… those are mine and they play so well off of each other.”

“You’re a sick bastard, Al.”

“And you adore me for it!”

“Don’t remind me of my bad tastes while I’m eating,” Husk huffed with a teasing snort. 

Alastor laced his fingers together, leaning his chin onto the resulting cradle. “What about you, then? What grand exploits did you have planned in the Before-time?”

Husk paused, forkful of bananas foster nearly to his mouth. “Ah shit, I dunno. I thought I’d be some big shot with a few million in the bank, a wife I avoided and hated, and a kid I felt sorry for bringing into the mess, I guess.” He shoved the dessert into his mouth with a shrug.

Alastor’s soft smile turned cunning at that. “Children, Husker? I must say I am intrigued. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You do favor an easily-amused audience.”

“You’re my damned M.O.,” Husk agreed with a sarcastic grin. “But yeah- I’d have liked a kid, I think,” Husk admitted with a shrug. “But that’s in the past. I’m lookin’ more towards the future these days.” 

The cat demon set aside his fork, a deadly serious expression on his face. Husk reached out a clawed hand, and met Alastor’s gaze with his own. “Split it with me?”

Alastor stared at the proffered hand. “You’re... certain about this, Husker? This is the sort of contract I will not take on lightly. I may not even be able to dissolve it, once struck.”

Husk’s nod was immediate. Resolute. 

“Deal me in, if you’ll have me at your table. I’m damaged goods, but I’ve finally got myself together enough that I… Look, I know there’s no way I want to be anywhere but at your side. I want to be with you, Alastor.”

The Radio Demon reached out and took the hand extended to him. “Well, my darling, you’re the most fascinating subject I have ever studied. Perhaps an after-lifetime will be enough to devote to truly learning you, and even perhaps discovering the secrets of the pull you have upon me. What can I say, except ‘I do’, then?”

Unnoticed, the last stubborn shard of Husk’s heart sealed itself back to the whole.


End file.
